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Updated: June 2, 2025
The room rang with the cry, "Incurable idiot!" and Gerrit Van Swearingen cried louder than any, "Go drown thyself, and spare thy mother shame!" "Then I shall not marry Elsje?" exclaimed Nanking, bursting into tears. "No!" stormed Peter Alrichs; "thou shalt marry a calf. Away!" When Nanking arrived home he found his mother sitting very close to Ffob Oothout. He told his tale with a broken heart.
'Tis a pity so good a boy has not a rich father; ha! widow?" The widow stooped very low again, but had the art to show her ankle to the best advantage, though she blushed. She said it was very lonely for her in the New World. "Now, Widow Cloos," continued the sailor, "I am Ffob Oothout, at your service! I am a mariner.
"Let him lose no time," muttered Ffob Oothout; "the English have doomed these Western Netherlands!" Amidst the festivity Nanking was in a condition of despair. He had seen Elsje on the street and she turned up her nose at him. Christmas was only one day off, and Santa Claus, the Swede boys insisted, never came to the sorrowing shores of New Amstel. "My uncle Gerrit was right," thought Nanking.
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